#Dolraan

[sirdolraan]

Old Ghosts

(( DWC August 2024 Day 2, Violence/Tenderness, CW: guns, death, murder, blood; @daily-writing-challenge ))

As he did every year around this time, Drogar sat in his study, examining his old, trusty revolver, surrounded by old ghosts.

"NO!" Moira screamed, as Drogar emptied his pistol into the Dark Iron Emperor, finally avenging his clan's suffering from Dagran's plotting. Far from breaking free of the control, Drogar watched, dumbfounded, as she fell to her knees, cradling the un-moving form of Dagran Thaurissan. "Thaurissan was a great and honorable dwarf," she sobbed, "You ruined my life and the life of my unborn child!"

With a sigh, he tenderly and methodically disassembled the pistol piece by piece, giving each component a proper cleaning and oiling. Lorellai had used it extensively in her adventures, and taken fine care of it, but it had been one of his first successes in gun-making, and had accompanied him throughout his adventuring career. He'd made other, more effective and ornate weapons, but this one bore the weight of history. It was important that he be the one to give it a proper deep clean.

"Drogar, reinforcements are coming in, and they've got more of those fire lizards at their back, we have to go!" the mage had yelled, beginning to cast his portal.

Moira had looked at him with hate in her eyes, Thaurissan's blood staining her dress as it pooled beneath him. "Return to Ironforge and tell my father that the heir to the Kingdom of Ironforge will be a Dark Iron dwarf. Whether he approves or not, it shall be."

Piece by piece, he restored the pistol to its functional state, clean and ready to be loaded and used again. It felt heavier in recent years, though he knew nothing had changed physically.

Some weights weren't physical.

The blue light of the teleportation spell surrounded Drogar and his allies as they made good their escape ahead of the howling cries of the dark iron soldiers and their fiery masters. Moira stared daggers at Drogar, helpless to do anything but cradle her beloved husband's corpse. Everyone else was looking elsewhere, but their gazes were fixed on each other as Drogar raised the pistol once more, pointing it at Moira.

Click.

And they were back in Ironforge, mission complete, if not successful. Thaurissan was dead, but Moira had not been rescued. "We're going to need to tell the King what happened, come on everyone," his friends had said, as Drogar lowered the pistol, staring at the empty space where moments ago and miles away he'd seen Moira Thaurissan.

Drogar set the pistol on the table, and sighed. In hindsight, it had been damn lucky the weapon had been empty. Despite his hatred for the dark irons, and the difficulties of the Cataclysm, Moira and her loyalists had not only saved Ironforge, but strengthened his home. The Council of Three Hammers had done well by his people, and their future was bright. He'd done what he was commanded to do. He'd assassinated the ruler of the enemy who warred against them. He'd avenged his uncles, aunts, cousins and more who had died to Dark Iron machinations. And only now, with success and family and everything he'd ever have wanted, was he able to appreciate the cost of what he'd done.

"Th' Butcher of Blackrock. Cannae believe I used t' take pride in it, eh boy?" he asked, gently scratching behind Balinore's ears. The great bear huffed at the disturbance, but leaned into the attention.

A noise from the stairs interrupted his reverie. He turned to see Lorellai coming down the stairs, holding her pack in one hand and looking worried. "Hey Da', do yeh have a minute t' talk?"

Hours later, the sun had risen over icy Dun Morogh, and Lorellai was saying her goodbyes. That minute had turned into hours as they'd learned that Lorellai wasn't the only meddler having the visions, and the decision had been made for those hearing the call to join Dolraan in Dalaran to lend their aid to Khadgar.

"Lass, one last thing," Drogar said, holding his daughter's hand as he drew forth the pistol. "Got it all cleaned up for yeh. May it continue t' keep yeh safe. I love yeh, lass."

Lorellai took the pistol and casually slid it into her her shoulder holster, under her coat. "Thanks Da', we'll both be back before you know it, I'm sure!" she declared, giving her dad a kiss on the nose before hoisting her pack and stepping towards the portal. Moments later, Drogar stood in a smaller crowd that began to break up and return to their work.

"Titans, if yer listenin', keep her safe. And let her give that tool a better destiny than I did."

[commanderbragh]

Excitement

Banagan looked out over the city of Dornogal. He looked like he was trying to take in everything all at once. His head turned slowly from side to side, his eyes locking onto one area before darting to another. This is so different from Darkshire and Stormwind, even Valdrakken, he thought to himself. An Earthen guard passed by and the paladin caught a glimpse of himself in the guard’s shield. Banny reached up and rubbed his unshaven chin. Guess I am, too.

As he continued to look out over the city, Banagan heard more footsteps coming towards him. A moment later, Dolraan was standing next to him. The dwarf said nothing, but stood quietly and stared out over the railing. Both paladins took in the moment of peace.

“Is it always like this?” Banny asked.

“Like what?”

“The excitement. The danger.”

“Often enough.”

“I thought going to Valdrakken was exciting enough. But this is different.”

Dolraan said nothing, but just glanced over at the younger paladin from the corner of his eye.

“Things seem so.. I don’t know.. precarious maybe? I mean, didn’t we just get finished saving the world?”

“Azeroth always needs saving.”

“Guess I didn’t realize that. The first time…  last time, it was an adventure. You know, my first time doing it on my own. I mean with the Meddlers, but.. you know.”

“Your father never told you his stories?”

“He did. I thought he was making up things when I was little. Now I think he held back because he didn’t want to scare me or my sister.”

“Yeah, parents will do that.”

“This is what he was doing? All the time?”

“This and more, probably.”

“A wonder he survived it,” Banny said almost in a whisper. Dolraan glanced at the young man again before looking back out at the city.

“What’re you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you want to do?”

“My dad would say that we should help them.”

“What do you say?”

Banagan thought for a moment and then looked at the elder paladin. “I want to help.”

Dolraan clapped Banagan on the arm and turned away from the bannister. “Then let’s get to work.”

[lorellaishc]

The Next Generation

(( DWC November 2023, Day 6, Expectation/Selfish, CW: none; @daily-writing-challenge ))

The dust of battle had cleared, and for the moment, the forces of Azeroth had taken the field, but the enemy was yet unbeaten. Fyrakk had broken his way into the temple with his own powers, and he and his followers had retreated within.

Lorellai could hear the aspects making plans to pursue, talking about taking a team of their most able champions to aid the pursuit, while the rest remained without to handle any further attempts by the remaining flame druids, primalists, or djaradin to interfere. She saw her parents, as well as her many aunts and uncles, Henii, Dolraan, and Hlin among them, engaging in the conversation as well. That made sense. She and the rest of the team had handled the primalists in the vault, and down in Aberrus, but those had been fairly localized trouble, and happened fast enough to preclude calling for backup. But now Fyrakk and the Firelands were threatening the world tree and the emerald dream, and that surely meant bringing in the big guns, and well, what bigger guns were there than the heroes who'd saved the world time and time again?

She'd already started preparing herself to be okay with that when Drogar broke off from the group, followed by Darlain and Dolraan, heading her way. They looked every bit the legendary dwarven heroes they were. Her father in his mechanized armor suit, her mother in her angelic war-priest vestments, and though uncle Dolraan would argue that he was a poor dwarf indeed, a fine figure nonetheless in his shining silver and gold armor and argent tabard. Before they could say a word, she smiled and greeted them. "I guess we should wish you all luck in there! I'm sure Fyrakk and his cronies won't know what hit them." Lorellai was pleased with herself, she'd managed to tamp down her own disappointment, and show them the love and support they'd always showed her. But the way they looked at each other and smiled seemed odd.

"Er, lass, that's what we were coming over t' say to yeh. Th' Aspects are calling on your team to join them inside, we'll be holdin' th' line out here." Drogar said, clapping his daughter on the shoulder.

Lorellai gawped as Dolraan followed up. "You've got far more experience with these particular villains than we do, having just arrived. And you've all proven yourselves to Alexstrasza and her fellow aspects time and time again. This is your mission."

"Make sure you teach them a lesson about messing with th' peace of Azeroth, my little sparkler!" Darlain said, pulling Lorellai into a hug. "Make sure they know why every other villain fears going up against th' Meddlers!"

Out the corner of her eye, Lorellai caught Shansii hugging her mom as well, and a few others receiving well wishes from the older heroes. Hlin in particular seemed to be giving some last minute punching advice to Edmund, who was listening thoughtfully. "Are… are you sure?"

Drogar beamed back at her. "Oh hell no, but I trust you, and I believe in you, and I know that Alexstrasza wouldn't be askin' for yeh if yeh didn't have what it takes. But I won't be sendin' yeh empty handed! I cannae help but notice that spear of yers 'as seen better days. Maybe a bit more of a distant approach will suit yeh better in there, and I've got just th' thing, designed and built based on those lovely elemental ore samples yeh sent home." Drogar whistled, and Balinore lumbered over, dragging a long crate. Unlocking it, Drogar pried it open, and removed a beautiful looking rifle from the hay within, handing it reverently to his daughter. "I call it th' Firefighter, on account of it usin' elemental fire to enhance th' shots with which you might fight then fight fire with fire!" Drogar declared, inordinately pleased with his wordplay.

Lorellai gingerly took the weapon from her father's hands, running her fingers along the barrel. "It's.. it's beautiful."

"Wield it with pride lass, and give that' fire dragon a shot to th' eye he'll ne'er forget."

Lorellai pulled her dad into a hug, but already she could hear Rokishan calling her name, as everyone got ready to head inside with the Kaldorei and the Aspects. Loading a magazine, she nodded at her father, and turned to face the temple. It was time to meddle.

[noonmutter]

Dreams: Terry and Dolraan

A writhing mass of sludgy smoke and steam fell to the ground with a squishy thud, then fell silent. Didn't stop writhing, though, which was concerning and kept them both on edge for a few seconds. Terry finally shifted his grip on his rifle, and poked the pile with the tip of the bayonet.

Then they both burst out laughing. The paladin next to him raised his arms in triumph.

"I learned NOTHING."

Dolraan's mad grin faded as the dead Sha began to writhe anew, tentacles and amorphous nodules bubbling and squirming and, after a moment, growing. As the shape of the thing erupted ever upward, sharp black and white became dingy, bloody red and sickly purple. Gleaming, jagged teeth sprouted from a newly-formed maw like a needle through thread.

A monster of anima and ancient corruption howled in inexplicable pitch as it fell upon the shocked pair, and rifle and sword both swung up to meet it.

piff

With an unceremonious sound, pieces of the beast drifted to the ground, resembling off-color leaves in autumn as they settled.

Terry and Dolraan looked at each other. Both shrugged.

"Me too, I guess."

The leaves shuddered, shuffled, convulsed, and launched themselves toward one another, colors shifting again.

The pair sighed and raised their weapons again.

They learned nothing, over and over again.

Toffee was there.

( @sirdolraan )

[sirdolraan]

Dolraan, Lorellai, and Ghorren up to the plate for this one

Teatime Tuesday

SPILL SOME TEA!

Send juicy rumors you've heard about my character!

Say something on anon you would never say to my character's face, good or bad!

Ask invasive and probing questions to get my character to spill their own tea!

Spill some personal tea about yourself to my character!

Spill some personal tea about someone else* to my character!

IC ONLY PLEASE! ANON IS ON! Feel free to send things even if we have never interacted before!

Practice good question/reblog karma! Ask a question to whomever you reblog this from! Get asked a question, return a question!

*Please do not divulge any information about another OC unless you have their permission to do so!

[celadonch]

☭ x Janyice!

Battle Intro:*Scoffs* “Huh, alright then.  Here we go!”Victory: “Of course I’d win, was there any doubt”Half HP: “Damnit, You won’t take me down that easily”Low HP: “Sh…shit.  I have to hold on”Defeat:”No, I can still…go on”Death: “MARA! MILAYA!…”Assist: “My shield is your’s, just watch out!”Taunt: “HA!  Next time, don’t try to hit me and HIT ME!”Reacting to Taunt: “Tch. Scum, I’ll take your head for this”Flee: “No choice!  I’ll be back for you another time!”Reacting to Flee: “Don’t run!  You’ll only die tired!”Tie: “Tch!”Perfect Victory: “My shield, your face.  What did you expect?” Low HP Victory: *huffs* “All in a days work.”Finishing Move: “For those that seek protection, for all who would oppose wrath, for if you are the anvil bear, for when you are the hammer.  STRIKE!  SHIELD STRIKE!” 

[nirahsa]

( @shckaewynn Writing reminded me of an older piece I wrote for Nira a few years back in response to an ask of an Older version of my muse.))

The young draenei girl and human boy giggle as they run through the woods. It was hard to tell who was chasing who as they weaved around trees. They only stopped when the boy tripped over a branch and tumbled along the ground.

“Are you alright!?” The draenei girl asked while helping him back up.

He dusted himself off nodding fervently, “I’m fine!”

A loud crack of thunder made the two jump, their heads snapping in the direction of the noise before gasping. A house sat nestled among a clearing with a looming tower on one side that sparked and arced with electricity. The hum of machinery could be heard even from this distance.

“That’s….the….the mad woman’s home!” The girl stated even as the two children swallowed hard, staring at the house, “They say she transmutes kids into lightning sprites to power her machinery!”

“I heard that she’s a naga and over fifty thousand years old!” The boy remarked.

“You idiot naga aren’t real! Plus if she was a naga she could only be forty thousand years old”

“That’s still super old!”

The two continued to stare at the home both fidgeting. “You should go knock on her door!”

“What? No! I don’t want to be a lightning sprite!”

“Scaredy cat!”

“I’m not scared!”

“Whatcha looking at?” Another voice came from behind the two causing both to jump as they turned around. To see an older draenei woman kneeling down to their eye level smiling brightly, goggles covering her eyes. Her skin looked weathered from a long life but still had a youthful glow to it because of her draenic heritage. Her hair was still mostly dark brown except for several large white streaks running through it that had a look as if they were slowly growing in size over time.

“Oh ah, nothing,” The human boy replied immediately glancing off as if he was in some kind of trouble.

“Just the crazy naga woman’s house, it has a lot of doohickeys!” The draenic girl smiled brightly.

The older draenei continued to smile, “It does, yes yes! I’m Nirahsa, who are you?”

“I’m Dolran!” The boy stated proudly, sticking his thumb against his chest before it looked like he was trying to imitate a heroic pose.

“Dolran? That sounds a lot like Dolraan the legendary Paladin of the Argent Crusade!” Nirahsa remarked softly giving the boy’s head a pat.

“I was named after him and one day I’m going to be a big hero just like he was!”

“Well you certainly won’t need a stool, well so long as you finish growing up first,” The tinkerer laughed lightly, knowing full well the boy wouldn’t get the rather poor joke of a remark long forgotten in the past. She looked over to the draenei girl, “What about you?”

The girl smiled brightly tail flicking back and forth, “I’m Shansii!”

“Shansii? I know a Shansii but she’s all grown up now, she’s had all kinds of adventures of her own just like her mom, yes yes!” Nira smiled before she slowly stood back up, “Did you both want to take a closer look?” She began walking towards the house, both children blinking as they looked at one another then back to Nirahsa.

“Wait, you live here? That means…”

“…you’re the crazy naga woman!”

Nira laughs lightly with a grin, “Well, that’s what they say, I mean I do have a tail.” She swings her tail broadly for a moment, “But I only turn the naughty children into lightning sprites, and neither of you look naughty to me, not with names like Dolran and Shansii! No no!”

The two children stared for a few moments longer before jumping as a mechanical sigh was intoned behind them, “You’d better decide quickly, madam doesn’t keep the door open long.” A small bot with a straw hat stated before walking past the two kids following Nira.

“She’s the naga lady!” Dolran exclaimed.

“She’s a draenei we aren’t naga!” Shansii stated sticking her tongue out at the boy before dashing after Nirahsa, Dolran frowned a moment before following suit.

“Hey wait up!”

[kharrisdawndancer]

💞 for Sir Dolraan Sa'naan of the Silver Hand (probably via reputation)

[pinpep]

Verdict

Despite her feelings about the Watcher, it was difficult not to be intimidated in the presence of Odyn. The fiery beard was hot even from this distance, and his booming voice echoed across the chamber. Hyrdda had called it a test, rather than a trial, but with packed seats like this, it seemed like one, though perhaps they found it more entertaining, for who could anticipate what would happen?

“Welcome! Valajar!” Odyn called out. “I apologize for interrupting the celebration at our glorious victory, but the time has come to judge the bargains made on the mortals we championed to our cause, those we saved from death’s embrace and brought to these Hallowed Halls!”

Cheers erupted, boots hitting the pavement, and swords clanged against shields. It was hard for Pinapple not to feel especially small in this room.

The Watcher lifted his hands to silence the room. “Pinapple Peppercog.” He let out a warm chuckle at saying the name, “Hyrdda found you on the Broken shore. You had given your life so many could live, even felling a mighty demon to do so. She judged you worthy of my boon, and I agreed. But I have come to question how you have used it. Amongst your allies, there were those that felled far more enemies, won more glory on the battlefield. You may speak, before your advocate presents me the tales of your deeds in full.”

The gnome didn’t hesitate. It was a calculated move, one she often had to employ while working with new clients. Demand others take you seriously with confidence.  “Great Odyn!” perhaps not her most sincere compliment, but there were many definitions of greatness, “It is true I did not engage on the front as much as many of the mighty valajar. But it was not my assurance of strength, or bravery, that led me to fell the beast that day I was raised into your halls. I saw victory, I knew what needed to be done, I knew what I had to do to achieve my goals, and I acted. That is my strength, Odyn, and I wielded it to scour the Legion from Azeroth’s shores, Victory before glory.”

The cheers were less boisterous, but more than she was expecting. She turned to Hyrdda, who smiled, amused.

Her Valkyr was quite thorough, detailing every bit of coin and manpower that she had negotiated to join the war effort, every bit of intel she gathered and passed on, and detailing how that information was used and how many demons died as a result. This was in addition to her battle strategies she had worked out with Dolraan, throughout the multiple sieged targets of the campaign. All of which ended in victories, the gnome was pleased that Hyrdda seemed to be emphasizing that word. “In addition, she did what we are all called to do.” Hyrdda continued, pointing a finger at Leon. "She inspired a coward to fight, and to prepare to fight you.” She pointed toward Odyn, “if needed.” Pin shot her a angry look, biting her tongue but making a fist. For Odyn’s part, her laughed, approvingly, amused, even.

She was surprised the crowd sat and listened so long, especially Odyn, who never seemed to have much of a stomach for talk over action. Once, Hyrdda had finished, he nodded politely, and then slunk back into his throne deliberating. Pin looked over into the crowds, picking the face of Leon out there, he was in his worgen form, she couldn’t blame him, with the tense feeling weighing down on her, she could only imagine what it was like for him to witness it. He seemed to be muttering to himself, his fists clenching.

“Very well” the voice boomed out, finally. “You have proved your valor, and I shall award you the opportunity to end your service to me and prove your glory, here, for all to see. Bring forth my champion!”

Hyrdda frowned. Leon shot up and snarled, two Vrykul lifting up their spears, which he lashed against, but one of them moved to speak to him, Pin couldn’t make out what she said, but somehow it managed to prevent him from ripping her to shreds. 

Pinapple turned to the side when an entourage appeared, a woman, in golden armor and a greatsword that towered over the gnome, seemed to be at the center of it, her golden hair waving in the wind as if it were almost planned to hit her at just the right spot. “Valarjar, you may pick your weapon.”

Pin didn’t look quite so confident at first, a greatsword of her own, perhaps. A spear, a sword and shield? She thought it all over, and then her mind wandered to… Fight nights, her taking on Wes, he wasn’t able to get his hands on her, wasn’t able to… “Great Odyn! I request combat in the most primal form. No weapons, no armor.”

The champion scoffed, laughing, “You have thrown away your only hope, little one! I accept her terms, Mighty Odyn!”

“Very well, Let us begin!”

They started out, circling each other along the ring, measuring each other up. Her foe had a low, wide stance, which was smart. Pin took in her muscles, quite defined, even when compared to her own well trained body. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to take a good hit, and sure she wouldn’t be able to push her way out of a grapple… she had to be perfect, had to be qu- movement, the champion let out a war cry and charged at her.

It was fast, so fast, letting her foe get in close the dived forward just as she saw the arms lunging out towards her, diving low, between her legs, and firing a sharp kick to her shin, causing the warrior to cry out in pain and stumble forward. Turning, the gnome latched onto her belt and up her back, and before the champion could reach back or roll, she got her arms around her neck, holding on tight. Holding on for dear life as her challenger tried to dislodge her, unable to get a good grip in her with her arms, she resorted to trying to slam her against the arena walls. The gnome’s body threatened to break against her foe’s back, but all the while, she held, and soon, the warriors movements became sluggish, before falling to her knees and on the ground.

Bleeding, half delirious, the gnome stood on her feet, and the crowd went wild. “Glory to the victor!” His voice rang out, quite delighted. “Tend to her wounds, she has proven her valor, and earned her return to the mortal world. May she prove an example of valor to follow!”

She looked up, and smiled, then collapsed to the ground. It was done.

[sirdolraan]

Again, Dolraan or Erick (or honestly any of them I love them all)

Ask anything, nothing is off limits!

Anon is on!

*Remember to spread the love and send a question to whoever you reblog this from!*

[sirdolraan]

Meet-Awkward

(( DWC August 2024 Day 4, Ego/Coincidence, CW: None; @daily-writing-challenge ))

"Ah, Sir Dolraan, it's good to have you and the Meddlers at our side," Khadgar said, shaking Dolraan's hand as the others filed in behind him.

"Same to you, Archmage. A few years of relative peace aren't enough to rob us of our edge, where are we needed?"

Lorellai's gaze wandered as Khadgar and Dolraan began to discuss the ghostly memories that were appearing across the world, and fell on the glittering, still form of Magni Bronzebeard, with Queen-Regent Moira kneeling at his side. The former king's body shone in the low light of the chamber, and Lorellai could hardly drag her eyes away. The stories hadn't done it justice, a dwarf made of living diamond.

Her reverie was broken by a warm hand on her shoulder. "And who do we find but one of the League's finest up-and-comers, ready to answer tha call!" Brann Bronzebeard declared, giving her shoulder a friendly shake as a handsome young man with spectacles and pockets full of scrolls and tomes followed in behind him. "Toddy speaks highly of your abilities lass, glad to see yeh here!"

Lorellai smiled back, taking his hand and shaking it. "Well, just happy to help where I'm needed."

"Is this a friend of yours, Uncle?" the dark iron lad asked, straightening his glasses, his gaze torn between the unconscious speaker and his desire to be polite.

"Ach, that's right, you've not met yet. Dagran me lad, this here is Lorellai Truthhammer, one of the Dragonscale Expedition's finest champions. Aided in several key discoveries -and- stood against the primalists t' boot! Lorellai, this is my nephew-"

"Dagran Thaurissan the Second." Moira's voice rang out, putting a chill over the conversation. "My son, would you please attend me, your grand-da needs us both right now." Something about her voice and gaze made Lorellai feel only a foot tall.

"Oh, of course Mother. A pleasure to meet you, Lorellai, perhaps we can talk about your discoveries once things are calmer," Dagran offered, smiling genially as he strode to his mother's side. Lorellai nodded, then barely held back from shrinking under the icy stare of Queen Moira.

"Oh, would yeh look at that!" Brann said a bit louder than he needed to, "I think yer meddler friends are gettin' ready to head out, go on lass, we'll catch up later." Brann patted her on the shoulder, before leaning in close. "Don't take it personal, lass. Old hurts and all that. You're a good egg."

Lorellai nodded, stepping back with a slight bow to the royals before turning to join the others at the portals, her gaze lingering as it met Dagran's once more, before she went off to join the fight.

[commanderbragh]

Write Up

Braghaman made his way back to his desk and sat down, looking at the papers that were spread over it. Taking a moment to straighten them into a stack, the paladin got out a clean sheet and his pencil. Leaning forward, he hovered over the paper, collecting his thoughts before he started writing. 

“Hopefully this will work,” the paladin muttered to himself. “Assuming that Daci and Dolraan don’t throw something at me first.”

[lorellaishc]

Turning Tides

(( DWC November 2023, Day 3, Inspiration/Unresolved, CW: combat, violent death; @daily-writing-challenge ))

Lorellai rolled away from a blast of flame launched at her by a flame-scarred druid, barely avoiding the worst of the heat even as the caster began another incantation. She drew up to one knee, and put her fingers in her mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

The druid sneered at Lorellai, the cruelty on her face plain to see. "No one will stop us from recovering our perfect immortality!" the druid shouted, the flames flaring bright in her hands. Lorellai coughed.

"Yeh won't be seein' it!" the girl shouted back, as a form loomed up behind the druid. The smack of a wet sticky tongue caused her to lose concentration on her spell, and the look of fear and confusion on her face was almost comical as Stroganoff pulled her into his mouth, biting down hard. Her legs kicked twice, and then stopped while the mighty hornswog burbled, bathing his victim in his molten juices. Stroganoff was not one to play nice when his dwarf was in danger.

"Good boy, good, good boy!" Lorellai said, pulling herself to her feet and leaning on Stroganoff to steady herself. Her arms felt like jelly, and she didn't need a mirror to know she was covered in soot and minor burns. She'd had to toss her bomb pouch for fear of it cooking off, and the rest of her gear was in rough shape from the hours of fighting for the Wellspring. She pulled her goggles down, wiping the lenses clean as she scanned the battlefield for her friends. Down the way, Ghorren, Edmund, Shansii and the rest were holding back a swarm of primalists and fire elementals with everything they had, while further down the line she could see the Kaldorei and the Dragons being hard pressed. She'd been tasked with helping knock out the ritual towers the primalists had created to block arcane spells, and she had done her part of the job, but it had taken everything she had. Lorellai was exhausted. They all were.

A pained roar interrupted her reverie. She gasped as she saw Alexstrasza fall, struck from the air by Fyrakk, both taking their visage forms down below, out of her range. She zoomed in, seeing them speak, seeing Fyrakk raise his axe... and then she saw the smile on the dragonqueen's face. Zooming out, she saw the portals opening, and the smile that grew on her face threatened to split it in two. Their friends from the dragon isles, the Kirin tor, and the heroes of the Alliance and Horde emerged, and forced Fyrakk to retreat. A horn blew, and she saw the banner of the Argent Crusade flying, and knew that her uncle Dolraan was down there as well.

A burst of arcane energy flared from the other side of Stroganoff, catching her attention. She had barely moved to look and see what it was when she was grabbed and pulled into a familiar hug. "Och, lass, there yeh are! Oh I'm so proud of yeh!" Drogar yelled, holding her close enough she worried she might not be able to breathe. Well, she'd held her breath for worse reasons, and she just gripped him tight, burying her face into his beard like she had when she was little.

"Oh da," she said when he loosened his grip, "it's been real hard out here, harder than any of your stories!" Drogar beamed at her as he continued to hold her, feeling her shudder as she tried not to cry.

"I know lass. Some things the stories can never get across. But you've done so bloody well, and I'm so bloody proud of yeh. But there's more t' do, so why don't we get on down and finish up this fight so we can catch up proper, aye?" he declared, stepping back and pulling a rifle and one of his combat mecha-squirrels from their place on his back. He tossed his daughter a potion that was caught and eagerly gulped down, restoring her stamina.

"Alright dad, let's do this." Lorellai declared, hefting her spear, and shouting a warcry as she charged down the hill, Stroganoff at her side and her father at her back. They had a battle to win.

[noonmutter]

Rerun

DWC Feb 2024 Day 1: Casualty/Flirt

A year ago, if anyone had asked Terry Lias-Ambroce if he'd ever set foot on a battlefield again, he'd have burst out laughing, and then thrown them out of his house. If they'd asked him to do it willingly, he'd have given them a five-second head start before he turned the rooftop turrets back on. In both instances, he'd also have considered throwing them into the moose pen after spritzing them with doe-in-heat urine.*

He was not expecting anyone to do it at all, let alone the Grand Army of The Alliance. After everything, they had taken the wisest course of action and left him and his family the fuck alone. Outside of the monthly pension payments, they didn't even exist to him anymore. The only military groups he spoke with for the last handful of years, he did so through Dolraan, and that was only ever to discuss the progress on the war-moose breeding program.

Until it was time to move on Gilneas.

That was, possibly, the only thing that could've gotten Terry to put down his rifle after he'd spotted blue and gold on his doorstep. He was fully prepared to go to prison rather than start the shitshow all over again for a third time, but thankfully, he didn't have to. The messenger was smart, and had held up the scroll bearing the Gilnean seal so it was the first thing he saw, and he'd been willing to give him at least a few seconds to explain.

It took almost an hour to convince him that it wasn't another ploy to trap him in service for the rest of his life this time. Or to separate him from his family so somebody could shank him somewhere remote. Or anything else. There were a lot of possibilities. Even with Diggs and Smits firmly behind bars--for all intents and purposes, the two of them also didn't exist, but it wasn't just to Terry in their case--he knew he'd still had plenty of enemies. Just because you won didn't mean the losers went away.

It was a voluntary reactivation, to be ended whenever he chose, and with the freedoms afforded every other standard soldier of his rank. He was a sergeant now, not a conscript, and he had standing he still didn't know what to do with some days. Running the dregs of the Scarlet Crusade out of his birthplace? Taking back the country he'd spent over a decade telling people wasn't dead?

That, he could gladly do.

The campaign was fairly short, and fairly brutal, but Terry expected that. He was far from the only one in the company who had zero patience or tolerance left for those who would keep him from his home, and he was giving the orders to a lot of them. That part was surreal, but it seemed to work out well enough. There were casualties under his command, but no fatalities. In more than one instance, he saw to it personally that no one died under his watch. A couple guys were going to come home a few pounds lighter, but at least they were coming home.

He was coming home.

After the fighting had largely died down and all that remained were various skirmishes and prods at the borders from other interested enemies--other kingdoms, mostly, but he did encounter more than one cluster of enterprising Forsaken that deeply regretted making that choice once he found them--Terry was given pause.

When he thought of the word 'home,' for the longest time, he thought of a farmhouse overlooking the rocky headland cliffs; the fenceline of the ranch around it; dodging cow shit every time he went out for a walk. Now, when he thought of the word 'home'...there was a second image. The house that had started as a cabin and he'd personally expanded well beyond the confines of the term, surrounded by the gloomy, spindly trees of Duskwood; his veritable herd of children and his smirking wife standing in the middle of the chaos, eyes on him; the orchard and distillery that they'd set up largely as an excuse to give Darnassian refugees a place to stay.

He was coming home. But home had gotten a touch complicated, of a sudden.

And then there was the small matter of a letter bearing the seal of the newly-crowned Queen Greymane.

God dammit. I haven't even done anything yet.

( @daily-writing-challenge @shedwyn @sirdolraan )

*yes I know a female moose is a cow not a doe but it seemed easier to follow if I used 'doe' in this instance

[sirdolraan]

Dolraan, or maybe Erick ?

[bannylarethian]

A letter

A plain envelope, addressed to Janosis of the Tirisgarde, arrives.

Master Janosis,

I am writing you at the suggestion of Master Dolraan. I met him during a gathering called an Inkwell recently. I had made mention of a magical item that I am currently researching, an item that purportedly has something to do with portals. Master Dolraan said that I should contact you, that you might have some insight to share. I would greatly appreciate any assistance that you might be willing to share.

With warmest regards,

Ebaneth of Eastvale